014 The Seven Wonders of Novice Village

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In the quiet woods, Mengzhu slowly sat up against a tree stump. She rubbed her lower back. Her entire body still throbbed with pain, and her cloak had been torn in several places by the fall, but none of that mattered much at the moment.

This was not the first time she had suffered such severe injuries in the Free World. She had seen enough of these situations to have gained some experience.

Under normal circumstances, when a player’s character suffered injuries severe enough to leave their health nearly depleted, recovering without outside help was extremely difficult. There was no way to slowly regenerate health, at the very least. In certain situations, however, self-healing was possible: one might take a potion powerful enough to mend the wounds, use bandaging and first aid to temporarily treat one’s injured body, or employ somewhat more advanced healing magic.

Of course, in a place like the Newbie Village, even a bottle of ordinary Withered-Grass Potion—in other words, a healing potion—was difficult to obtain, let alone something like first aid, which functioned almost like a skill, or a mage capable of performing miracles.

Simple bandaging, however, was something anyone could manage. All it required was a few strips of sturdy, clean cloth. But the wild boar had struck Mengzhu so hard that her entire body felt as though it had come apart; several bones might even have been broken. As for external wounds—the sort bandages were meant to treat—she could not find a single one.

The girl bared her teeth and thought for a long while, but failed to come up with any effective solution. Apart from killing herself, it seemed that all she could do was struggle and slowly crawl back... Perhaps she should find a stick first? Maybe she could use it to support herself and stand up...

Mengzhu struggled to pull a strip of cloth from her waist and wrapped it around her right arm, which she could no longer lift. At the same time, she glanced around. She was at the edge of the forest, in the wilderness near the grasslands. Wild birds sang clearly overhead, and all kinds of flowers and grasses grew around her, with fallen leaves scattered across the ground. The only thing missing was a branch sturdy enough to serve as a crutch.

From the distant forest came the faint, shrill squeals of the wild boar. It seemed that the obnoxious middle-aged man had not died yet...

He was still alive! The wicked really did live forever.

The girl thought bitterly. Then, leaning against the tree roots and bracing both hands against the ground, she tried to stand. After several failed attempts, she gradually gave up.

She sat with her back against the trunk, hoping the system might show some mercy and restore a little of her health. At the same time, she calculated how badly she had suffered this time. She had even lost her weapon. If she did not want to die, she would have to spend another sum of money on treatment once she returned...

But first, she had to survive long enough to get back.

Oh, and there was the bamboo basket. The old woman at the herbal shop had lent it to her. There was no way she could retrieve it now, and she had no idea how she would explain the matter when she returned.

After a while, she began wondering whether that middle-aged man had died. It would be better if he had. He was such a terrible person, always throwing her around...

Then she realized that the wild boar might come looking for her again. Thinking of that, perhaps it would be better if the man did not die after all...

Her thoughts began to scatter. Mengzhu’s mind grew hazy, and her gaze wandered aimlessly as her consciousness slowly drifted away. Through the mist, she seemed to hear footsteps approaching.

Oh no. If another player found her gravely wounded, would they rob her?

Acting on instinct, she propped herself up with one hand and tilted her head toward the direction beyond the woods. Her right hand still hung uselessly at her side, while her left was clenched tightly. In her heart, she prayed that the worst scene she could imagine would not appear.

Then a voice sounded behind her.

“What are you looking at? Did you call someone to come save you?”

Mengzhu turned around and saw the obnoxious middle-aged man she had been muttering about for ages.

“Luckily for me, that means I can save myself some effort and won’t have to think of a way to carry you back... Don’t look at me like that. I know what you’re thinking. You thought that stupid pig would carry me all the way back to the Newbie Village, didn’t you?”

As he spoke, Duan Qing emerged from the shadows of the forest. His clothes were in tatters, and his hair was even more disheveled than before. Bruises could be seen beneath the torn fabric where his skin had been exposed.

The sun was about to set, and the light was growing dim. Mengzhu did not notice how miserable Duan Qing looked until he had come closer.

Shock, delight, and anger passed through her heart in succession before gradually subsiding. The girl pursed her lips, wanting to make a few sarcastic remarks about Duan Qing’s bedraggled appearance, but in the end, she said nothing.

Then she noticed someone standing behind him in the shadows between the trees, watching them.

More precisely, it was an NPC.

“All right, let’s get back quickly. This place is dangerous.”

The man appeared to be in his forties or fifties. He had a square face, thick brows, large eyes, and a resolute expression. Although he wore a full beard, several strands of gray were mixed into the black. A wheat-colored straw hat sat on his head. He wore a red-and-black checkered shirt, gray suspenders, and brown leather boots. His entire appearance radiated a sense of reliability...

The image of a dependable farmhand.

Compared with Duan Qing, this man was obviously far more trustworthy.

Yet Mengzhu’s first impression was not of a reliable uncle, but of a fierce one, because the man had a gigantic pitchfork resting on his shoulder.

The wooden shaft gleamed with a lustrous sheen, evidence of long use. Yet the three prongs of the pitchfork reflected a cold light, appearing razor-sharp and showing no sign of wear. At that moment, their keen tips were coated in red, with fresh blood dripping steadily from them.

The man stood there with an utterly composed air. Nothing about him suggested that he had just emerged from a violent battle.

Noticing Mengzhu staring at him, he nodded to the girl. The sternness in his face relaxed slightly.

She had been caught staring...

Realizing that it was impolite to gaze at someone so openly, Mengzhu lowered her head in embarrassment. The man did not seem to mind. When she raised her head again, he had already disappeared. Apparently, he had left.

Duan Qing looked at the girl sitting on the ground, dazed and staring into space, and helplessly shook his head.

“Hey, hey! Wake up!”

So she really survived. Completely unscientific...

“My little stars are about to come out.”

The wild boar had beaten her terribly, but then someone had saved her. Still... still...

“By the way, you’re both middle-aged men, so why is your attitude toward each of you so different?”

But this man was so annoying!

Beneath the setting sun, the miserable girl sitting on the ground suddenly exploded at the equally miserable man beside her.

“How dare you say that! Do you look anything like a proper uncle? Look at that bird’s nest sticking up toward the sky, and that vegetable-like complexion of yours! How come you didn’t die? Why did you have to be rescued and brought back? You were the one who nearly got me killed by throwing me around just now! Let me go! Let me go!”

She chattered on and on, waving her arms and pounding Duan Qing’s lower legs with the last sliver of health she had left. She looked nothing like someone on the verge of death.

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“You’re the one who calls me an uncle, and you’re also the one who says I’m not an uncle... Women.”

Duan Qing ignored the girl’s incessant complaints, crouched down, and gestured toward his back.

Remembering that she had no way to return on her own, Mengzhu struggled for a while before climbing onto his back as though resigning herself to her fate. But admitting defeat was out of the question, so she continued arguing.

“I—I can say whatever I want! And I’m a young lady! I’m in the prime of my youth...”

“All right, all right. Can’t you at least be a girl, then, little Mengzhu?”

Mengzhu’s face reddened again, and she angrily retorted, “Don’t call me that! Are we even close? You threw me around so many times just now. My body and my spirit have suffered serious trauma, and I haven’t even settled accounts with you yet. You’re paying for my treatment when we get back...”

“Hey, hey. Anyone who didn’t know better would think I was the one bullying you... Besides, I’m very poor.”

“Liar! If you can even fight a wild boar, how could you not make a little money?”

“That’s what I’m saying—the wild boar wasn’t killed by me. It was that... well, that uncle just now. He stabbed it to death with a single thrust of his pitchfork...”

The afterglow of sunset spread across the grasslands south of Greenstone Village, painting everything in gold. The lush grass swayed back and forth in the breeze, resembling a natural dance. A figure carrying a girl walked through the swaying grass and gradually crossed the floor of that grand performance. The girl’s lively voice alternated with the man’s helpless replies, and nothing about them suggested that they had been strangers who met for the first time that day.

As they walked, Duan Qing vaguely recounted what had happened in the forest.

He said that he had struggled with the wild boar for quite a while before a pitchfork suddenly came flying through the air, striking the creature squarely in the head. The boar died without even putting up a fight; the weapon’s power was obvious. Only then had the uncle emerged from the shadows, walked over to the corpse, pulled out his pitchfork, asked Duan Qing a few questions about his condition, and led him out of the forest.

As for the details of how he had struggled with the beast, Duan Qing naturally passed over them with a few vague words.

“Apparently, that uncle appeared out of nowhere wielding a demonic trident. He let out a mighty roar and struck three times in succession—swish, swish, swish! He forced the wild boar back step by step until it couldn’t defend itself... Well, the boar didn’t have a weapon to defend itself with...”

“Stop, stop, stop... I understand.” Mengzhu interrupted Duan Qing’s ridiculous storytelling with a pained expression, then frowned thoughtfully. “But based on what you described, I’m reminded of someone.”

“What? That Black-Wind Demon is an acquaintance of yours? Truly, heroine, you conceal your abilities well. May I ask your honorable name...?”

“Enough nonsense. Do you want to know or not?”

“I do, I do...” Duan Qing finally stopped improvising.

“Heh, heh...”

The girl on his back seemed to cheer up. Lowering her head, she rested her chin on one of Duan Qing’s shoulders and began speaking in a low, ominous voice.

“This village is full of unbelievable legends. They say many people who refused to believe them went to investigate, and in the end, every one of them died...”

“Uh, I just finished my performance, and now you’re putting on another one?”

“Don’t interrupt. You’ve ruined the atmosphere...” the girl whispered, then continued in an even lower voice. “That uncle just now must be one of the Seven Mysteries of the Newbie Village—the Hunter in the Woods.”

“It is said that whenever you encounter danger in the Emerald Forest, the hunter will appear and offer you his help. You must accept his assistance, and he will help you escape the forest. But if you refuse his help, he will...”

“Kill you, right?” Duan Qing pursed his lips in boredom. “How many decades has that story been used?”

“Tch. You aren’t scared at all...”

Her originally lively voice was hardly suited to creating a ghost-story atmosphere, but Duan Qing still smiled and continued.

“So that uncle just now was the legendary hunter, then?”

“I made most of it up. But the general idea isn’t wrong...” Mengzhu whispered. “Though really... he was very much like one. Even if we did run for quite a long time...”

In truth, the two of them had only fled for a little over ten minutes. But because of the tension of the moment and the frantic pace of their exchanges, the ordeal had felt much longer.

Duan Qing understood this sort of “illusion” very well, but he did not explain it. He merely replayed the uncle’s actions in his mind, considering what might lie behind them.

After a period of silence, the village entrance came into view beneath their feet. Duan Qing returned to his senses and seemed to notice that something was wrong. He brought the conversation back to life.

“What other ghost stories are there? Tell me some more...”

“Cough, cough... For example, the village chief is actually several hundred years old. They say that whenever someone in the village breaks the rules, they are sent to the chief, who eats them. That’s the secret of his longevity...”

“A loud old man came to the village a year ago. He often strains his voice singing horribly off-key songs. Whenever a bard passes through the village and sings, he sings along—or rather, ruins the performance. They say that if you don’t tell him his singing is beautiful after listening to it, he’ll beat you to death. Oh, and apparently he’s very good at fighting...”

“There’s a house on the northern edge of the village, but supposedly no one lives there. Usually, all you ever see is a little boy. Every time you go near that small house, you can hear him crying and calling for his father...”

Like a parent telling stories to a child at night, Mengzhu’s intermittent voice gradually grew heavier, as though the storyteller herself would fall asleep before the child she was trying to lull to sleep.

Duan Qing did not interrupt her ghost stories, but he quietly quickened his pace, running toward the eastern side of the village. That was where Greenstone Village’s only clinic was said to be located. He had never been there before—today’s injuries were the worst he had suffered since entering the game, yet he was still able to run and leap about.

The murmuring voice behind him seemed never to stop, but her breathing grew fainter and fainter. Growing anxious, he continued searching while maintaining his nonsensical conversation with her.

“Hey, hey. You’ve listed quite a few, haven’t you? Let me count. I think you’ve already gone past seven...”

“Have I...? How would I know how many there are...”

“You don’t even know yourself, yet you’re talking about the Seven Mysteries... Hey, hey.”

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“...”

“Are you dead? If you’re dead, say, ‘I’m dead,’ so I can throw you down and run away...”

“You’re the one who’s... dead...”

Could this game actually have a concept of bleeding to death?

The two of them were not in the same party, and Duan Qing had no idea what condition she was in or how much health she had left. He broke into a full sprint, ignoring the drain on his stamina. Finally, after passing through an alleyway, his vision suddenly brightened. At the entrance of a large building stood a sign bearing a red cross.

Thank goodness the development team had not designed some hospital emblem more consistent with the setting of the Free Continent.

For a village of this size, a single clinic should have been enough to treat the wounded. But the Newbie Village was crowded with new players. None of them knew how to play, and injuries were an everyday occurrence. The wounded arrived one after another, leaving no empty beds.

The clinic was not large, but it was spacious. Many crude wooden beds stood in the hall behind the entrance. Numerous windows had been opened in the white walls, whose age was evident from their worn appearance. Several people in white uniforms moved between the beds, occasionally hurrying to discuss something with the person behind the front desk. They would then enter a door behind the counter and emerge a little later carrying something, before rushing back to the beds to continue treating the patients.

The room beyond that door was presumably where the medicines were stored.

The hall was quiet. When Duan Qing burst inside, many of the beds were already occupied by players. Judging from their miserable condition, most were suffering from injuries they could not treat on their own. Several had especially poor complexions and looked as though they were either ill or poisoned.

Duan Qing steadied himself, then felt ridiculous for having panicked just now.

“What was I afraid of? It’s not as if death is real. And this game doesn’t even have a death penalty...”

Though he muttered the words aloud, he understood in his heart that as virtual technology grew more realistic, death had gradually become a problem no one could avoid.

No one liked dying, and therefore no one liked experiencing the sensation of death. In the early days of virtual gaming, realism had been limited, and games were still merely games. Players could ignore life and death, spending their lives recklessly.

But as technology had advanced over the past few years, the reality of death had gradually intensified. The pain and terror of dying had become increasingly impossible to evade.

Once the issue had been placed on the table, universities, experts, and scholars of every kind had engaged in prolonged discussions. Yet even today, no one had found a perfect solution.

Regardless, technology continued to advance, and the games continued. Players could only try to adapt to the sensations brought by this unknowable realm.

As a professional player in the Alliance and a veteran of virtual games, Duan Qing had long since grown accustomed to things such as pain, stimulation, and death. Most ordinary players, however, naturally could not adapt to them—and did not want to.

That was why they feared death.

After finding someone who looked like a doctor and explaining the situation, Duan Qing settled the girl in a bed. Then he walked to the counter, intending to pay her treatment fee in advance.

Sitting behind the desk was an old woman who looked very advanced in age. Her face was covered in wrinkles, and her curly hair was mottled brown and gray. She, too, wore the standard white coat of a doctor, with a wooden nameplate pinned to her chest.

Chief Physician: Claire.

That was what Duan Qing read on the nameplate.

He paid twenty Ebry coins first and said that if it was not enough, he could put down more as a deposit. The old woman named Claire was quite kind. The deep lines of her aged face folded into even more intricate patterns as she smiled.

“That won’t be necessary...”

“Be more careful on your adventures in the future. Try not to get hurt again,” she said with a smile.

An old woman’s admonition was always so heartwarming...

After briefly explaining the girl’s injuries, Duan Qing returned to Mengzhu’s bedside and found her staring blankly at him.

You. Are. Fine.

Duan Qing said nothing. He mouthed the words to her, exaggerating his expression until his teeth were bared and his face twisted grotesquely.

Mengzhu burst out laughing, then immediately winced when the movement tugged at her injuries.

“Wh... where... where is this...?”

“A hospital.”

“I—I don’t want to... The treatment fee is so expensive...”

“Hey, hey. You think twenty gold coins are expensive? Didn’t you agree earlier to let me pay in advance for you? You forgot already?”

Perhaps remembering something, Mengzhu struggled to turn onto her side so that Duan Qing could not see her expression.

“Th... then it’s settled...”

“Why am I reminding you, anyway...?”

Duan Qing slapped a hand over his face.

“Forget it. Let me make one thing clear: it’s an advance payment. An advance payment, understand? You have to pay me back later... Hey, are you listening? Never mind. I’m leaving.”

Watching the girl’s ears grow slightly red, Duan Qing helplessly shrugged. When a white-clad NPC approached Mengzhu’s bed, he turned and walked out of the clinic.

Naturally, he did not hear the girl turn away from him, close her eyes, and mutter under her breath:

“I’m not paying you back... Thank you.”